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Azrail ran faster, gathering as much power as he could, drawing on the eager land around him and swearing sharply at the force of magic that filled him. His hair stood on end, eyes blown wide and hands trembling as if it was the first time he'd touched magic.
Faster, a low, thundering voice commanded, and Az stumbled, nearly losing his footing.
"Some fucking timing," he bit out, pushing himself as fast as he could for the whirling shadows, bigger and closer now.
He spotted blood on the ground in a jagged trail, and two figures standing, fighting—one massive and bald, and one with moonlight hair he'd know anywhere.
One of the huge, winged beasts dove from the sky, aimed right for his mate, and Azrail didn't allow himself to think before he slashed his hands through the air, sending an arc of green magic so dark with shadowy smoke it was almost black.
Maia should have been glowing, full of saintly magic like she'd been in the Forest of Skies, but when Az came close enough to see her features, she was pale and afraid.
"Help him," she pleaded when Az skidded to her side. She grabbed his arm, squeezing tight enough to leave red marks. "Az, please, help him. I can't—my magic won't—"
Az slashed a dark coil of power at a giant bird swooping at them and pushed Maia behind himself. "What's growling? It's not the birds."
They were silent as they dove.
"I-I don't know. I keep hearing it, but I can't tell," she rushed out, pushing him towards where Ark was prone on the ground, breathing but only just.
"Bryon, cover me," Azrail commanded and knelt beside Ark, spotting the source of the blood instantly. There was a chunk missing from his thigh. "There's a bigger threat here," he warned. "Eyes open, both of you."
"I can hear it," Bryon huffed, "but I can't see the bastard."
Azrail had never been the best at healing—Ev was the expert in their family—but his earth magic could heal a gash like this. He just didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
"I tried to call my wolves," Maia rasped. "They didn't come. I don't know where we are."
"We're gonna be fine," Azrail promised, keeping his voice steady. He wanted to hug her, but he set his hands to Ark's gruesome thigh instead, reaching for the restless pool of magic inside him and moulding it into something that could—in theory—heal.
He gritted his teeth, fighting with his power, dragging it to his hands and forcing it to heal, not maim.
Dark emerald magic stained his deep gold skin and dripped, like water from a tap, onto Ark's thigh. Where it splashed his skin, blood was washed away, absorbed into the magic itself, and the raw skin began to knit back together.
Thank fuck.Azrail had a feeling Ark's own healing magic was doing most of the work, but he didn't care as long as it got the guard back on his feet. Maia was distraught; she couldn't lose him.
"Boss," Bryon growled, worry clear in his rough voice. "I think I see it."
Azrail snapped his attention up and followed Bryon's line of sight—only momentarily blinking at the sight of his hands twisting glimmering, gauzy magic through the air and knocking aside the huge, feathery birds.
"Saints," Maia rasped, spotting it at the same time Az did.
The ground itself was shuddering, shaking off dust and dirt as it lifted into the air.
"We're not getting out of here," Maia choked out, damn near breaking Az's heart. She'd been wrecked all night and morning, but to hear her give up so easily, his fierce, stubborn princess…
Az shoved to his feet and sucked in a slow breath, pulling power from the earth and reaching for that long-neglected pool of darkness inside him. He'd been pushing it down, ignoring its seductive call for years, but now he plunged headfirst into its dark promise like he'd jumped into the mirror. Whatever it cost him, whatever it took, he'd get Maia out. His vow would allow nothing less.
"What the fuck is that thing?" Bryon demanded, sweat dripping down his face as he gritted his teeth, knocking aside the vultures circling above with his magic.
Az shook his head, watching the thing rise from the ground in the distance. It reminded him of cunning river rays he'd seen when he was a kid, before they fled the city and the Delakore reign, but this one was a hundred times that size. It was as big as a factory, bigger even, and Az struggled to breathe when it opened its mouth and bared its teeth.
"Well," Az said, swallowing. "The soldier we're trying to finddefinitelywants us dead."
Not dead,a dry, papery voice disagreed, making all three of them stiffen and exchange a panicked look. That wasn’t the Wolven Lord he’d heard a few minutes ago. Wasn’t anyone he’d heard before.But away from him. His fear is bigger even than the Levaen.
"The Levaen," Maia breathed, grabbing Azrail's arm with a shaky hand, gripping tight. "That's what that thing is?"
End the Levaen, find him, and never lose him.
